


The last Stark in Winterfell

by the_carrots_revenge



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:19:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_carrots_revenge/pseuds/the_carrots_revenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell"<br/>Benjen’s story. Robert’s Rebellion, Riding and Ranging, Past to current. Not cannon (but I did try).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before Harrenhal

**Author's Note:**

> My first fan fiction. Be kind.  
> Will hopefully be several chapters long and follows Benjen's adventures.  
> I have tried to take events from the books - but it does not follow the books.

“And there will always be a stark in Winterfell!” finished Rickard. Brandon, of course, yawned. He had heard it all many times before. Lyanna stared intently at her food, clearly embarrassed by her father’s ranting; Eddard nodded along, eyes glowing with all the zealot of a religious convert; and Benjen, the youngest, sat straighter proud to be part of the North’s noble traditions. Ranged about the dining hall Rickard’s bannermen clapped and cheered – “Stark, Stark, Stark.”

Food was plentiful, drink flowing freely. Usually Benjen was considered a bit young for more than a half glass of beer but not tonight. Tonight was a grand feast. Tomorrow his father, brothers and sister would journey to Lord Walter Whent’s tourney at Harrenhal. This would leave Benjen as The Stark in Winterfell, acting lord of the North. Aged only fourteen he would beat both his brothers – Brandon had been sixteen before getting the chance to be The Stark of Winterfell and Eddard, bought up mainly in the Eyrie, had never done it.  
Excitement bubbled up in him as he thought of who he would meet, the decrees he would make, what he would do… nothing too outrageous, he wanted to prove himself worthy of a good holdfast… but broccoli would definitely be off the menu until his family returned.

Lyanna plopped into the chair next to his “I’m sorry you’re not coming.”  
He grinned at her “I’m not. I am going to have fun!”  
She made a face “I’m sorry for me, not you. That oaf Robert will probably be there. Brandon will expect me to be nice; Ned will be sad if I’m not nice.”  
“I don’t know why you don’t like him, he’s Ned’s best friend”  
“Best buddies forever.” She replied scathingly. “Do you like him?”  
“I hardly know him. He seems very nice. Always cheerful.”  
“Do you want to be married so someone who’s always cheerful?”  
Benjen laughed. “Well it won’t suit you! You want someone sorrowful and…”  
Lyanna pinched him.  
“… pretty. Just like….”  
This time she kicked him, hard. Benjen held a finger up to him lips signalling that he wouldn’t say anything more, before flicking his eyes significantly towards the castle bard who’s tinkering tune could not be heard at all beneath the noise of the northmen. Lyanna blushed slightly before hissing “It’s nothing to do with him.” He smiled knowingly at her. “I wish I’d never told you… you… clod”. She jumped up and flounced off.  
Benjen immediately resolved to slip a lute string into Lyanna’s luggage. He grinned evilly to himself as he pictured her reaction… while she was hundreds of miles away from him with no chance get him back. Not that he would ever be stupid enough to confide his crushes to his loud-mouthed sister.

 

Benjen was up early the next morning; eager and excited to say goodbye to his family.  
He was going to have so much fun over the next few weeks. His list of decrees had grown from no broccoli to no spending any time at all with the maester and included organising weekly hunts.

As he bounded down the stairs he noticed that his father’s baggage was all still piled beside the door, odd, he would have thought the servants would have loaded it all last night.

Lord Rickard was seated at the high table breaking his fast as Benjen eagerly joined. His heart fell slightly, he had hoped his father would have already finished so that he could sit in the Lord's chair for his own breakfast. But he did not let his disappointment show as sat next to his father and gestured for ham and bread.  
Rickard studied him. “Good morning son.”  
“Father.”  
“Benjen, would you like to attend the tourney?”  
Benjen felt surprised; no one had asked him previously; Brandon was going to compete; Lyanna was going to spend more time with Robert; Eddard was going…. Why had never been discussed, possibly to squire for Brandon, possibly to chaperone Lyanna and meet high born girls, possibly to meet members of the King’s court, but most likely (in Benjen’s opinion) it was their father’s last ditch appeal to stop Eddard talking about the Night’s Watch. Ancient and honourable as it may be it was still a lonesome road of duty and honour in the far north surrounded by criminals and lowborns and not at all what Lord Rickard desired for his sons. Knight’s and girls and southron comforts should divert his brother before he decided he had heard the calling.  
“Well…” he hesitated, then continued wistfully “I guess I would. It would be really nice to see the knights. But there must always be a Stark in Winterfell.”  
“Do you feel ready to be The Stark in Winterfell Ben?”  
“Yes father. I am ready.”  
“Good, good.” Rumbled his father. “Tell me, what were you proposing to do as Stark?”  
Ben was grateful he had pre-prepared his list. Let’s see; no more broccoli – better not tell father that; No more studying – nope; Hunting… hunting… gathering food, right? perfectly un-exceptional. “I would organise a hunt father.”  
“Hunting Ben?”  
“Well…. To make sure we have enough meat?”  
“Good, good. Anything else.”  
“I hadn’t really thought father.”  
“What about defences? How will you handle defences?”  
“Um?... Do we need defences father?”  
“We always have defences Ben. Ask Sir Roderik. Sir Roderik!”  
“Lord Stark?”  
“Tell my boy here about defences.”  
“Winterfell’s defences?”  
“Winterfell’s defences; tell Benjen about Winterfell’s defences!”  
“Now? My Lord?”  
“Now!”  
“Well, Winterfell has three main defences; the outer wall, the inner wall, the moat between. There are only two gates; and various towers look over all parts of the walls providing external cover. Archers can be used to repel any advancing army. Should an army reach the walls there are various passages of retreat further into the castle for increased defensi”  
Ben interrupted “Father; why tell me this. Winterfell has no need of defensive strategies.”  
Lord Rickard gestured for Sir Roderik to answer: “Young pup, Winterfell always maintains look outs from at least four key positions of the keep. We maintain men for the keeps defence. A castle without lookouts, without men, is a castle easily overrun. Fifty men could hold Winterfell from five hundred. But if those fifty men don’t know the five hundred are coming what’s to stop them strolling in the front door?”  
“We are not at war Sir Roderik. Your five hundred fictional foes will not stroll in the front door because they do not exist.”  
Sir Roderik slowly began turning red and blustery.  
“Thank you Sir Roderik. I believe Benjen and I need to have further discussion.”  
“Thank you my lord.” The knight swirled, a picture in offended dignity to leave a dining hall.  
“Benjen, Benjen. You must never speak to Sir Roderik like that again. Later I want you to beg his pardon.”  
“But father…”  
“No Benjen. Sir Roderik spoke true. The North is secure but it has not been and will not be. The Boltons bear us little love, the Karstarks could rise, even the Mornents cannot be trusted. Any of the great houses could decide to take Winterfell. Armies could match up the Kingsroad – and boy, if they do they will be doing everything they can to provide no warning. Wildlings have been known to get past the Watch, they could try to overrun us. Three hundred years ago Torren Stark knelt because of dragons. No Benjen; Armies could come at any time; from any direction. Old Nan will tell you of white walkers; I think they are unlikely, but if the watch towers are not manned how will we know? We will not. Winterfell will be overrun and there will be no one left to place our bodies with our Stark forebears in the crypts below.”  
Benjen glanced at his feet, he felt ashamed and ill. “I’m sorry father, I will make sure the watch towers are manned. And apologise to Sir Roderik.”  
His father sighed “I know Ben.” After a pause he continued “Well, we have it: Food is important; defences are important. What else will you do during your time as lord?”  
Benjen thought desperately. “Hospitality is important Father.”  
“Yes, yes. Hospitality is important. Why is hospitality important?”  
Benjen scrunched his face. This was hard! Why was his father asking all these questions? They left him feeling incompetent and foolish. “Guest right father”.  
“Yes Benjen, Guest right. Now, rather than parroting maesters answers at me tell me why guest right is important.”  
Benjen glanced about the hall. He felt shamed that he had no answer, but at least Brandon wasn’t here to see. “I don’t know father.”  
Lord Rickard sighed. “I can see that.”  
“Am I in trouble father? Can I still be the Stark in Winterfell?”  
Alarm quickly crossed Rickards face, but he spoke gently “Ben you are only fourteen. I do not expect you to know all the answers. Of course you can still be the Stark in Winterfell while I and your brothers are away. I just wanted you to understand that you do not yet know the answers. This is a learning experience and I am sure you will serve all Starks, all Northmen proud. Sir Roderik will be here to help, he and the maester will advise you. But you must listen to them; attend your lessons.”  
“Now Ben, I must tell you a secret. A keep like Winterfell – it pretty much runs itself, people know what to do and how to do it. The Lord really doesn’t need to get very involved. They will bring you out for big decisions, like hiring a steward; and apart from that the Lord’s job is to be fair, just, and not get in the way. Maesters will advise you in justice, knights will advise you on fighting. You make decisions but most of the time you will make decisions as you are advised to do. The Lord brings direction and focus; he is not involved with day-to-day activities.”  
“If that’s so father, why does a Stark need to be here at all?”  
Lord Rickard leaned in conspiratorially “That’s the secret Ben. Winterfell is the heart of the North. Starks are the pump which power the heart.”  
Ben looked confused.  
“Beneath us lie eight thousand years’ worth of dead Starks. We have ruled the North since time began. We will rule it until time ends. Winterfell is the Starks, it is the magic of the Starks, it is the history of the Starks, it is the future of the Starks. It is our link to the North, it is our link to the South. It is the symbol of Stark power unending. Winterfell is the Stark’s greatest treasure.  
We do not leave our greatest treasure unattended.  
Ghosts can do much, but a living Stark, supported by that power, embracing that power; what fool would fight that?”  
“But father, earlier you said we cannot trust anyone – that anyone could attack at anytime.”  
“And so they could Ben, but they will not breach Winterfell’s defences. And as long as a Stark sits inside her the rest of our bannermen will never join a rebellion against us. A Stark within Winterfell is legitimate. A Stark-less castle means the North is up for grabs.”  
Rickard paused a while to let Benjen take his words in.  
“There is more you know” His voice was quiet, soft, his words intended for Benjen alone, “It’s the magic of the Starks. I do not pretend to understand it, but there is power here. Real Power. Ancient power. You can feel it in the deepest crypts. You can feel it in the Godswood. And it answers to Starks, and it only answers to Starks.”  
“What’s it for father?”  
“I don’t know, but it is tethered to our blood. I shudder to think what it would do without that tether – that ancient, awesome power. Without us it would be free to whip this land.”  
“Does Brandon know? Does Ned?”  
“They only know what their hearts tell them.”  
“Why did you tell me?”  
“The day you were born Ben, I was in here, in Winterfell. The power shuddered. I cannot explain it. I knew then that you would be entwined with it in a way which we are not. That you would truly feel the weight of being the Stark in Winterfell.”  
Another pause, “I do not know the future son, I am not a soothsayer, and whatever this power, this magic is, it has given me no special abilities. I am just a man; just a father. I do not know why or how, but your entire lives I have known that for you and your brothers; being a Stark; it means something different to each of you. But you are all true Starks, and that power will run through you and it will not be easy.”  
“Now, I and your brothers and Lyanna have a tourney to attend.” He stood up, and gestured to his chair “Your throne I believe.” Benjen excited jumped into it from his own chair, hardly standing just bounding from his bottom. His father laugher. “Remember son, I am proud of you… and listen to Sir Roderik!”


	2. The monotony of ruling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benjen enjoys/enjoys less/does not enjoy the tedium of (sort of) ruling.

Benjen was literally jumping for joy. He had watched his family ride out that morning for Harrenhal while he remained The Stark in Winterfell!  
Of course, following his conversation with his father from that morning he knew he couldn’t really do to terribly much, but still, bannermen, maesters, commoners; they would all look to him to lead them.  
He bounded through the Godswood knocking leaves and branches off trunks; splashing through the shallows of the hot pools; chasing deer and terrorising squirrels. Birds took flight as he danced towards them whooping for joy. Eventually he realised that the castle, possibly even the wintertown, could hear his joyous celebration and possibly deeming it unbefitting a Stark. He calmed himself, collapsing beneath the heart tree, whispering his thanks and pleasure at the opportunity.  
At lunch time Sir Osrik showed up and summoned him to the castle. As they walked back Sir Osric (who was ancient) explained that it did the men within the castle good to hear him taking such pleasure in being a Stark, but it terrified the maids. Old Nan had been spreading tales of direwolves and whitewalkers and Ben would do better to confine his enthusiasm to less noisy outlets from now on. Sir Roderick, for instance, would happily help Ben relieve his excess energy in the sparring yard.  
Ben nodded, he understood.  
That afternoon he joined Sir Roderick (whom he apologised very nicely to) in the great hall to hear pensions and news. From the Far North, just south of the gift, came several requests from common families for relocation. Slightly further east, along the coast, came news of pirates (Iron Islanders? No. Just unknown pirate boats). From the wall was news of wildling activities and warnings about a deserter named Mance Rayder (presumed to have fled south; location unknown).  
The south bought news of fair weather and good conditions; Near the Riverlands was excitement for the Harrenhall tourney, good harvests and improving relations. The Riverland smallfolk, and Southern Northern smallfolk were all delighted by the planned Tully/Stark match, believing it would improve relations (Currently good, but improvement always welcome). Closer to Winterfell bought news of Lord Manderly’s cousins death (seamed fairly unimportant to Ben, and when he asked Sir Roderick later he was told that it was mostly just keeping up with the succession of all the greater Northern houses).  
Later was dinner, compared to the previous night it was a dull affair. There were no Lords, they had all either journeyed to Harrenhall or were back at their holdings awaiting his fathers return. He invited the Night’s watch representative, and his father’s vassal Lord Tallhart’s goodbrother (who had bought some sort of news) to sit with him at the great table; and later went to bed with a feeling of a job well done.

The next morning proved to be more of the same. Today he was not allowed to run unchecked through the Godswood but was forced to attend lessons. After lunch he once more took his seat in the great hall (less enthusiastic but the novelty still had not entirely worn off). Sir Roderick explained that his father heard pensions and routine news like yesterday’s only once a week; the lords knew which day to come on. The rest of the time he was only to be bothered if it was urgent. Others in the household could deal with most occurrences. Today’s meeting would be quite different; they would be discussing new roading options for logging transportation. Novelty officially worn off. Ben prepared himself to be bored. It was no wonder his father still spent so much time in the practice yard. Anywhere but here would be a type of bliss!  
Suddenly the horn on the walls sounded. Riders approaching! Someone important too, the horn blast was the signal that these riders would need greeting.  
Ben jumped up (he noticed that most of the meeting goers jumped up as fast as possible). The room was basically evacuated as they all raced for the gates and entrance. Ben took his place as head of the household with sudden excitement. Something was about to happen. Thrill raced through his blood.


	3. Secrets and whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Stark returns;  
> Benjen gets to attend the tourney after all.

Benjen stood by the gates of Winterfell, thrilling in the break in the monotony that being the Stark was turning out to be. Four riders were catering up the Kingsroad, they were through the portacullis, it was… that looked like… surely not…  
“Father”  
“Benjen. Sir Roderick.”  
“Lord Stark. We did not expect you back so soon. Not for another month at least.”  
“King Aerys.” Was the short, inexplicable reply.  
“Lord Stark, can we expect your children back shortly?”  
“No. Nothing to be done. Brandon must compete; Lyanna and Ned must attend.” He paused briefly, and continued as if talking to himself. “The boys will chaperone her, it will be fine.” It was clear something was weighing hard on Lord Rickards mind. Benjen wanted to press his father for more explanation, but Sir Roderick got in first.  
“Lord Stark, please explain, why have you returned, so soon, in such a state?”  
“Aerys; the mad king has decided to attend.”  
“Oh.”  
“I can’t be there. He’ll pay no attention to the children. It would look odd if they didn’t go; but I cannot be there. What if the King were to learn…” His father broke off, and stared at Ben. He stated a little, as though he had not really realised the boy was there. “Benjen, it looks like you will get to see the tourney after all.”   
“Father?”  
“Lord Rickard…”  
“No, Sir Roderick, you know it must be so. I cannot be there. But the whole south thinks Northerners are mad. All know of our insistence that a Stark remain in Winterfell. As long as all the children are there I will have cause not to be and no suspicion will fall on us.”  
“Prince Rhaegar?”  
“Shall have to fend for himself. No doubt a great many of the Lord’s he expected to be there are quickly returning with all speed to their holdings. I imagine the kingdoms are about to be struck with a plague of deathly ill relatives. The entire lot struck down by madness and cruelty.”  
“By madness father? Is it spreading? Are we all…”  
“Do not fret Ben, it is just your father rambling. Everyone is fine. The kingdoms are fine. I am talking riddles, gibberish. You must forget it.”  
Lord Rickard straightened. “Sir Osric, I charge you to take Benjen to meet with his brothers and sister. Take them all on to Harrenhall, watch over them. They will wait for you in Barrowtown.”  
“Father…”  
“Ben, you will attend this tourney. I am sorry for being cryptic; but you must go and have fun. You will enjoy it. Your brothers will look after you.”  
“Yes Father. But…. I thought I was to be the Stark of Winterfell.”  
“You have been the Stark. You are a Stark. For this trip, plans change. You have done well. Please Ben, don’t yearn for responsibilities, they will be yours soon enough. And they come with a burden that is not always easy to bare.   
Now you must catch up with you siblings as fast as possible; so go pack; hup to.”  
As Ben scurried away he heard his father, in a rather tired voice command Sir Roderick to attend him. Secrets he thought. Secrets and whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently thinking that the next chapter will be more focused on Brandon, Ned and Lyanna and how much fun they are having waiting in Barrowtown - but we will see how things progress.


End file.
